Meant To Be
by That girl in the corner
Summary: When I kissed Victoire, all I wanted was her juice box, not a life-long commitment. Yes, I was only an eight year old with a serious juice obsession when Victoire decided that we were to be together for life. We were, in her eyes, Meant To Be.   Teddy/OC
1. Death Wish

I, Teddy Lupin, am a dead man.

Why, you ask?

Well, It's a little like this.

I have a bit of a system in the mornings. First, I get up when I please, and then spend hours laying around in bed watching muggle soaps (Shh! Don't tell James!), with only my boxers on, until three, when I have to go cover my shift at George's shop. Afterwards, I go over to the Potter's for dinner, and then I go and visit the Burrow until Arthur and Molly go to bed. Then, if I'm feeling up to it, I might go down to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink or two, before stumbling into the house in the wee hours of the morning, where I start all over again. It's a good system, which really shouldn't be interrupted. Who knows what kind of damage the dramatic change could bring me. Unfortunately, others, do not understand the dire need that is my sleep. Others, such as my grandmum, Andromeda. Really, I don't know what gets into that senile old bat's head in the early morns. Just the other day the old bat woke me up at nine o' clock to run down to the apothecary to get her a fresh batch of newt eyes. _Nine o' clock!_ There is something unnatural about waking up before noon. Really! I mean, the traffic's not even mildly mental, the sun's just coming up, and the people are actually kind of pleasant! It's a whole new London, I'm telling you. This morning was quite like that one, much to my obvious dismay.

You see, I was in this lovely dream where I was flying on a gray hippogriff with this lovely muggle actress, Emma Watson, and we were just about to reach Hogsmeade, when my pain-in-the-arse Grandmum decides to holler at me from downstairs. Don't get me wrong, I love my grandmother to the death, but seriously, what in the name of Merlin possess her to holler at me before I've had my thirteen hours of sleep? I hadn't even had my waffles yet! I swear, she has another thing coming if she thinks she can wake me up to run down and get her another cartoon of unicorn milk…

"Teddy! Teddy, love? _TEDDY REMUS LUPIN, YOU GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW, YOUNG MAN!_" Isn't she lovely?

"What, grandmum?" I wailed back. I really need my own place.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS?" I groaned and turned over to face my calendar. Yeah, it was September first… September first? What was so significant about- HOLY SHIT! (Please excuse my profanity. In my defense, I thought it in my head, so if you have a problem with it, go jack someone else's thoughts).

"I'll be right down!" I glanced down at the silver watch Harry, my godfather, had given me for my birthday last year (I really wanted a new broom, but hey, tradition. What can you do?).

"10: 45!" The watch squealed gleefully. "Teddy's late! Teddy's late! Teddy's-!" I could just curse that damn James for jinxing it to talk- Only twelve and already making my life a little more miserable. He's such a Weasley.

"SHUT UP!" I roared. Yeah, waking me up early gets me grumpy. Grumpy enough to yell at inanimate objects? Apparently so.

I flipped my covers off my body (was my room always this cold?), and stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping over my feet, the light coming through the shutter temporarily blinding my sleep-disabled brain. I grabbed the corner of my dresser to stabilize myself, and pulled on a rumpled grey t-shirt I found laying by my feet.

Hey, It was clean, I assure you! Well, it smelled okay, anyway…

Grabbing my messenger bag from the hook by the door, I rushed down the hard wooden stairs, tripping over my feet a few times in the process. You see why you don't wake me up in the morning? It's a health hazard- to me, _and _who ever happens to be in the vicinity. I paused halfway down, suddenly realizing why my legs felt so cold. Why do I insist on sleeping on boxers? I swiveled back around, and hurtled myself back into my bedroom. The floor was littered with rubbish and random t-shirts, yet there were no pants in sight. Why, oh why, cruel world!

I grabbed my ash wood wand out of my bag. "_Accio _pants!" I said, and a pair of black jeans shot out from underneath my broom polishing kit. They were slightly wrinkled, and I think there was a stain from who knows what, on the left pocket, but they would do. I wrestled them on as I hopped towards the stairs- Whoops! I slipped on a stray sock, catapulting me through the doorway and down the stairs. In the most violent, and painful way possible. For me, and the kitchen wall I slammed into after I finished my descent. The poor thing will always have my face imprinted into it.

I wobbled around towards the front door, before coming face to face with Grandmum. "What have I told you, child, about keeping your dates? Victoire's going to be awfully devastated if you don't make it in time to see her off! You see where sleeping in has got you?" I inched away from her.

"Yes, Grandmum, but you're kind of-"

"You can be so unorganized, Teddy, you obviously take after your mother!"

"Blocking the-"

"She would always be knocking things over, always late, and she never,"

"Doorway-"

"_ever_ cleaned up after herself. Now-"

"Grandmum! Please, I have got to go so I don't miss it!" I cried desperately. Trust me, I'm usually laid-back, I really am. I blame this whole waking up early thing. I tell you, it's not good for my health. Her stern gaze softens and she moves out of the way. "Bye,Grandmum,I'llowlyoulater!" I called back, right before the door slammed closed behind me, half jogging over to the end of the block. I'm not allowed to apparate in the house, because the loud _pop! _Gives Grandmum a migraine. I hate my life.

For those of you who don't know, the Victoire I keep referring to is Victoire Weasley, the oldest of the Weasley grandchildren (I don't count seeing as neither of my parents were technically related to them), and eldest daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley. Who will soon become my parents. In law. But more on that depressing thought later (Don't get me wrong, Bill's cool, but Fleur's a bit too… much, for my liking). Back to me getting killed.

You see, I'm two years older than said girlfriend, as she was starting her sixth year at Hogwarts. That day. So I was supposed to go to King's Cross to see her off, but unfortunately for me, I forgot. So, there I was, standing in the midst of about a thousand swarming muggle tourists, trying to find out where the hell I was. One little girl dropped her ice cream cone on my Converse and nearly starts bawling, but her mum tugged her along regardless, looking haggard. I don't even like sodding strawberry ice cream.

Twisting my head, I caught a glimpse of the barrier in between Platforms 9, and 10, and hurried along, pushing my way through the lot of them. "10:52! The girlfriend's going to kill yoooouu!" My watch giggled ecstatically. Inanimate objects shouldn't be allowed to find so much pleasure in other's possible doom. It's not right, I'm telling you.

The Potters stand off to the side, minus James, who I assume already left to board the train. I spot Albus looking apprehensive, and almost stop to reassure him of the joys of Hogwarts._ 'Save life now, comfort later.' _I thought determinedly, stalking off through the fog, praying to Merlin, to catch a glimpse of Victoire's silvery blonde head.

I swear, Voldemort has nothing on Victoire. There she stood, arms folded across her chest, her beautiful face was contorted into raging fury. Not an attractive look for a part-Veela, I'm telling you.

"Hey, love." I said softly, putting my hand on her shoulder, bracing myself. Wrong move, Tedster.

You know that scary, slow turn that villains do in those muggle thrillers? Victoire perfected hers around the time the rest of the normal happy children were learning how to make macaroni necklaces. Well, she's a Weasley, what would you expect?

"You come here, TWENTY SODDING MINUTES LATE, and all you can say is _Hey, love! _NOW, IF YOU_ TRULY _LOVED ME, YOU WOULD BE HERE ON TIME, IF NOT EARLY, TO SEE YOUR GIRLFRIEND OFF! What kind of boyfriend does this _CRAP?_" She roared, oblivious to the gawking, absolutely _horrified_, hordes of families clutching to their children (Who could blame them? It's not like she was being all too discreet. Not to mention, it must be quite entertaining to watch the legendary Harry Potter's niece tell off his totally whipped (not that I am, or anything. I completely have a mind of my own… ) godson. It's press material, really. I'm half expecting the someone to call over the Daily Prophet to snap some pictures for the Sunday Special. I wonder if this purple color makes me look a bit peaky...? I could nearly hear their whispers: _No, little Mary, stay away from the scary demon lady… _

"I'D HAVE HALF A MIND TO BREAK IT OFF, IF I DIDN'T BLOODY LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" So that's what she calls it? "YOU ARE SUCH AN ARSE, TEDDY LUPIN." Don't normal people get tired by now? She must inherit that from her Nana Molly. Merlin, I still remember when I ate the cake that I 'forgot' was supposed to be saved for dinner. After that, no one really wanted to get on her bad side. And I never ate cake again. "Ugh! YOU DON'T RESPECT ME!" Unless it's blue raspberry flavored. "I SWEAR," I love blue raspberry. "IF I WERE YOU-" I wonder if they make blue raspberry cake. I'll have to ask Nana Molly; aside from that incident, the lady loves me. I think it's the whole no-parents thing; like since I don't have a mum, she needs to make up for it by stuffing me senseless with her home cooked food (which is quite a feat considering my monstrous appetite), and knitting me sweaters in bright vivid colors. I think I have enough now to match Uncle Harry's collection. "I WOULDN'T EVEN-" I think the latest one was orange. I like orange. "YOUR FACE." Victoire ends her spiel. My face? I've got to stop zoning out in the middle of sentences.

Vic just stand there for a moment, looking as livid as ever, taking these huge gasping breaths. But who can blame her after such a yell? After a moment, it seems like her furious rage subsides a bit, and all that's left is a rather worn out, pouty looking Victoire. She crosses her arms again, and looks away into the mist determinedly, apparently intent on giving me the cold shoulder until I apologized in the most believable fashion or bought her a ridiculously expensive gift. Preferably non-fat (what the hell is the point of eating non-fat sweets?) candies, and/or a giant teddy bear. Women.

I decide on the first option, considering I can hardly afford first month's rent in a vaguely non-ghetto neighborhood with a median crime rate in a relatively small flat.

"Look, Victoire," I sigh. "I'm so sorry, you know I wouldn't miss seeing you off for the world, right?" What I wouldn't do to be sleeping right now… "It's just I've been putting this off so much because I can hardly bear to be without you, that I totally forgot it was today." Not a total lie. I _did _forget that it was today. "I can understand that you're completely furious at me, but please-" I lift her chin up so she's facing me. "forgive me soon?" Hah. How good am I?

She searches my face for a moment before taking my hands in hers, wrapping them around her waist, as she buries her head into my chest. Some of her blonde hair gets into my mouth, and I try to spit it out in the most dignified manner possible, seeing as my hands are occupied. Euuw. "I forgive you." She murmurs against my t-shirt. "But-" Damn. So close. "You have to make it up to me." She looks up long enough to glare at me. Oh, Victoire. How you scare the living crap out of me.

I force a grin. "Of course, Vic." She smiles back up at me, before pressing her lips against mine. I kiss back, of course, but after all these years, it still doesn't feel 100% right. I mean, I feel _something_ for her, and I tell her I love her on a daily basis (You think I would be alive I didn't?), but when I kiss her, or even think of her in anyway other than strictly platonic, something we haven't been since we were like eight, and she decided that we were to be together '_forever, and ever_', I just feel sick to my stomach. My watch squeaks, vying for my attention. Victoire groans against my lips.

"Ignore it!" She sighs, capturing my face in her hands, smoothed with lotion from the Wonder Witch line. But another distraction comes before the watch can even beep again. "_Bloody hell!_" Oh looky. It's the boy who charmed my watch to talk in the first place. Annoying git. I face my kind-of cousin. I have to admit, it's actually kind of nice to be out of Victoire's embrace. Not that she was a bad kisser or anything like that, in fact she was quite good. Although, seeing as Victoire has stolen any chance I had of kissing any living creature that wasn't her or my Grandmums (I had gotten close to Jay Finnegan, but unfortunately Victoire found us before anything happened. Jay's hair never grew back quite the same), I couldn't be a very accurate judge. It was just that Victoire always just seemed too needy, like she didn't really care who she was snogging, just as long as she was snogging _someone._ And she was always kissing me in public, around her friends, and well, anywhere there was people, really. When, in private, she just didn't seem too interested. Not to mention, how when she did, they all felt so rehearsed: the kisses, the hugs, the 'loving' smiles. Like my relationship with her, whatever _it _was, was just a big ol' play to amuse the others. But I always fought those feelings away, telling myself that I _do _in fact love her. That my feelings were normal. Of course I do. Who wouldn't?

James gapes at us. "What?" Victoire snaps. Ohhh, Victoire _angry (_No, I didn't forget the verb. You're supposed to read that like the hulk :l_)._ James gulps, and frowns indignantly.

"You were snogging my cousin?" He says to me, in an incredulous voice that would sound menacing if I haven't known him since he was in diapers, glaring at me. That's right, he's one of the only people who haven't seen Victoire kiss me. Bloody Potter boys, always so protective.

"James," I sigh.

"Go away!" Victoire snaps angrily. "Don't you have a train to catch?" I don't point out that she does, too. I've already risked my neck once today. He opens his mouth to protest, but snaps it shut instead, storming away. If I didn't know better I'd think he was afraid of her. Oh wait, wasn't everyone? Not that Victoire goes around with a chain saw, chopping off people's heads. Most of the time. It's just she inherited the Veela skill to become _seriously _frightening when she's in one of her moods. I shudder to think about it. After he's gone, she immediately turns back into her gushy snogging mood. It's creepy how she does that. I'm starting to think she's bipolar…

I back away quickly. She stares at me, her shock quickly turning into hurt, which eventually dissolves into scary-Vic mode. "You have to catch the train." I say quickly, before it gets out of hand and someone gets hurt (namely, me), noticing that the watch was trying to warn me that I had two minutes before it took off. She scowls, and takes my hand, leading me over to the nearest entrance. "My stuff is already on the train." She adds, as I notice the lack of her usual ridiculous amount of luggage. _No thanks to you, _she adds spitefully with her eyes. I thought we were over that! She flips her hair imperiously, and heads off to the stairs without another word.

Blimey, I think she's still mad at me! _Women._

**Eh, hullo all ^_^~**

**This is my first fanfiction, so please review, but be kind with the criticism! Or, you know, be completely cruel and tell me you hate it. Either one! I don't mind. I love it all ;] PS: Please tell me what you think about Teddy. I know he comes off as a bit, er, impertinent and all, but he's just sleepy! Haha!**


	2. Do All Women Exist to Hate Me?

Chapter Two

Not everyone knows this about me, but I _do _have love experience beyond Victoire. There was a period when I was a wee sixth year, and Vic was a fourth, where we had an argument- the kind that kind of makes your average war look like a toddler throwing a tantrum over spilled ice cream. We split ways for a couple months, and I ended up with Jay… and well, you know what happened in the end. After that little, erm, spat, and a quite unfortunate visit to St. Mungo's (for Jay), we made up, and we've been together ever since. Someone should make us a cake.

Anywho, back to my point. It's pretty awkward to run into an ex, and this was no different, even if it was only a two month relationship.

It kind of hurts to admit, but Jay's looking quite fit. She's grown nearly a foot since I've last seen her, and her wavy beach blonde hair frames her tiny heart shaped face, apparently repaired from that, eh, incident. Her goofy grin is plastered on her face, like always, and her eyes are glistening with the same shine the ocean has when the sun's coming up. Her fingers twitch slightly, like they always did right before a big quidditch match- Merlin, it's times like this when I wished that I didn't let her go…

My heart pangs in my chest as she turns around in my direction, sending her wavy hair flying, and I know that I can't bear to face her. I spin around fast as humanly possible without toppling over into the throngs of muggle tourists, intending to get as far away from there as possible- and fast.

Unfortunately, life treats me like I ate its first born child or something. Yeesh.

"Ted? Merlin, is that you, Teddy?" I freeze in my tracks. _Damn_. Accepting the fact that I've been caught, I turn around, resigned, and try my best to look pleased to see her.

"Fancy seeing you here, Jay!" I say false brightly, a too-wide grin plastered across my face. She withdraws a bit, her ever goofy grin wilting slightly.

"Eh, yeah. I've got a brother going to his fifth year, remember?" She shrugs, now awkward. Oh yeah. Eric.

"Oh." I bite my lip to keep from fulfilling my brain's desire to ramble on and on to fill the awkward silence. "So how've you been?" That seems like a safe question. "I've been keeping busy, you know. Working in Uncle George's shop down in Diagon Alley and all." Merlin, someone stop me... "It's pretty cool, you know, even with minimum wage." My attempts were futile… "Although, the other day, a little kid hit me from behind with a fanged Frisbee, and I've still got this little pain in my -"

She laughs.

"Shut up. You always had a habit of rambling when the situation got awkward. Never did help much, though." She snickers quietly, running her hand through her beautiful, heart stopping hair. She twists her mouth to the side in that infuriatingly adorable way, and gives me the once over, lingering slightly on my left hand, the one clutching my wand. "So, you're back to purple hair?" I nod, tousling my unnaturally natural purple hair gently with my free hand. She smiles. "I'm glad. I didn't quite like it when you went blond. You didn't… look like yourself." I remembered that. I turned it that awful yellow color because Victoire said the brightness of my shockingly violet hair clashed with her paleness. I looked like a Malfoy for weeks. _Ugh. _

"Technically, I don't really look like myself ever. Or always. I don't know which."You geddit? 'Cause, like, I'm a metamorphmagus? No? Okay. Oh God. Now, do you see why I keep my wand handy in these situations? You never know when you might want to _obliviate_ someone who witnessed a rather embarrassing moment.

She grins. "Whatever." She waves my pathetic attempt at a joke aside. "My point is-"

"That I don't make a good blond?"

She grins. I wish she would stop doing that. It's not fair that she gets to make me feel all weak at the knees like this. "Something like that." She winks at me puckishly. " Well, see you, Teddy!" With that, she spins around and I'm left staring after her like a gawking, love bitten, self-conscious teenager (does this seem familiar to you?), as my heart screams out for her to come back, to take my hand, to kiss me. To tell me that I'll be fine, that I don't have to do what everyone expects of me. That nothing is set in stone.

But I just stand there, staring after her scarlet head, bobbing farther and father away…

I'm an awful person. I have a girlfriend for goodness sakes! A beautiful, lovely girlfriend! I can't just go around have these mad feelings for other girls! I'm awful. I'm a bad person. If lightning were the strike the very spot I stood at right then, I would go straight to hell. Yet, all that clouds my mind is the way she looked at me. Like she wasn't expecting me to do anything, that she was just happy to see me_. Happy _to see _me._ I frown at myself and take a deep breath. I can't be doing this. I can't betray Victoire, who has been nothing but loyal to me. I whirl around, heart still thumping, and come face-to-shoulder with Harry, my godfather.

"Teddy! I haven't seen you in 'round the Burrow lately." Harry exclaimed, and casted a smile over at me, once I dislodged my face from his coat. I'm quite tall, but Harry's much larger than me, but I reckon I'll catch up.

"Yeah," I said, grinning up at the man who had helped raised me to the man I am today.

…Shut up.

"I've been, uh, busy." I didn't mention the hours I spent on the couch with a self-refilling bowl of kettle corn watching The Young and the Restless. Oi! Don't look at me like that! It's a quality soap!

Harry smiles. "So I've heard. Come to see Victoire off?" He winks at me. Not sure why. Maybe he has a twitch… better not bring it up. He's probably sensitive about it. I wonder why I've never noticed it before…

Lily pops her head up from where she'd been hiding behind his leg. "Hiya Teddy!" She giggles, looking up at me with bright, earnest brown eyes. "James and Al just left. I wanted to go, too, but Mummy and Daddy say I have to wait." She twists her face into a furious, quite terrifying scowl, a look that is almost comical on her gentle face. Almost. Suddenly, she lights up. "James told us that he saw you and Vicky sucking face." He has such a way with words, that git.

My face flushes an embarrassed crimson, and I quickly change it back to a more composed shade, before anyone notices. That's the beauty of being a metamorphmagus, you can always change your appearance, at any time. It's really quite helpful.

"Eh, yeah. It was nothing." I shrug trying to look nonchalant, and look away quickly, pretending to be watching an elderly couple bickering. It's actually quite funny. The old lady just threw her cane at the man's head. Heh. Heh.

Ginny catches on (thank Merlin, Harry had the sense to marry this woman. She always was my favorite kind-of-Auntie), and quickly changes the subject to Quidditch. I zone out during a story about her Holyhead Harpies stories. I love them and all, but there's only so many times you can listen about her amazing signature long-range shots back in her Chaser days.

"Oi! Ted!" I whirl around to see an approaching figure. As he gets closer, I notice his messily long brown hair, his fringe hanging into his eyes, his tall lean figure, and the smirk that played on his lips. Merlin what was up with me and running into old mates today?

"Nev!" I cry, striding over to my first, and best friend at Hogwarts. Nevan (weird name, I know), and I met because our last names were right next to each other (Lupin, Lind), and therefore, teachers saw fit to throw us together all the time. I think it was a couple days later, when they realized their mistake. We got along fabulously, we both had a love of quidditch, and we both lost parents in the war. And the inevitable attraction for mischief, as Ginny called it. Merlin knows how many notices Grandmum's gotten.

He grins, and brushes his windswept hair out of his eyes. He's half Korean from his mum's side, and has her eye shape, but his dad's colouring. They're the same startling blue gray eyes that I had grown used to after all those years. My eyes, originally, were brown, but I change them after every month or so. Consistency isn't really a big thing in my life, if you hadn't already found out. They're currently hazel.

"Hey, how come you haven't called? I've been worried sick." He asked, pretending to look angry with me. Nevan's never been able to hold a grudge. He says it's because of his kind heart. I say it's because his short attention span.

"Oi, it's you hasn't called! Who's the one who decided to go off on a fabulous vacation in France without the other?" I say, clutching my chest mockingly. He lets a grin loose, and I swear I just heard about a thousand girls swoon behind us. He has that effect on people. Mainly of the female persuasion. But, hey! I don't judge, you know.

"Hardly fabulous. I've been at work, remember?" Nev works as an interpreter for the Ministry, and can speak about seventy languages.

"Yeah, right. All that following around those gorgeous French Ministry Officials, eating crepes all day, yeah, I'm sure it's been _rough_." He throws his head back and laughs, and I think that one girl out of the corner of my eye just fainted. Lucky git.

I notice Harry looking at us warily from the corner of his eye. It's like they expect us to blow up everything we touch. Yeesh. I nod my head over to the Potters, silently inviting him over to lunch. It probably seems rude, seeing as it's not my place and all, but I've been practically living over at the Potter's since I was a wee infant. He slings an arm around my shoulders. "I was hoping you would say that."

"Technically-"

"Shut up, Ted."

Albus just started his first year, and James, his second. The Potter house, which was slightly chaotic at best, seems nearly peaceful now, without their resident nuisances. Nevan has been here a couple times before, but still, he can't help but gape a bit at the grandeur that is their mansion. Harry didn't want it at all, at first, but Ron wore him down a bit, saying that it was a waste to say no the mansion since the Ministry themselves had offered it. Not to mention the two pools, three Jacuzzi's, indoor bowling lanes, home movie theater, a backyard big enough to be a quidditch pitch (literally, a gift from Harry to Ginny after she made the Holyhead Harpies), seventeen bedrooms, etcetera.

Aries, the Potter's owl, flies down and nibbles on my ear affectionately, before flying off into the kitchen for a bit of a snack, dropping us a little present on the way. Gotta love that pudgy little flying abomination.

"Right," Ginny says, waving her wand at the 'gift'. "Lunch'll be done whenever. Don't blow anything up." Oh, Auntie Gin, your faith in us astounds me.

"So, this is like, their quidditch pitch? Like, their _own _quidditch pitch?" Nev gawks. I swear that boy is worse than me around Jay.

"Yeah." I say absentmindedly, grabbing the nearest broom, an old Cleansweep, and tossing it in his direction. I snatched up my own trusty steed: Nimbus 2000, not as fantastic as Uncle Harry's Firebolt (I suspect James smuggled it back to Hogwarts anyways,), but amazing nonetheless.

I look up to a loud, resounding SMACK! Of wood hitting flesh. A sound I know quite well, being a chaser.

"You do know that you were supposed to catch that, don't you?"

Nev, apparently shaken out of his trance by the impact of a broom high fiving his face, spun around to face me, a red imprint of a broom handle already appearing across his face. "Ow. That hurt." He whines, puffing up his lips into a childish pout.

"Then you should have caught it."

"Well, you could have _warned _me!"

"Well, I didn't think I _needed _to, seeing as I told you that we would be playing quidditch, we're in a broom closet, and that I offered to let you borrow a bloody broom!"

Nev opens his mouth angrily to protest, but was quickly interrupted by the creaking of the door being opened. I glance over to see a bemused little girl, her curly ginger fringe falling stubbornly into her eyes, sticking to her forehead from the perspiration from the heat of the midday summer sun.

She glances from Nev's open mouth, to the angry red mark slapped across his face, to my indignant expression, and crosses her arms across her chest.

"Boys," Lily says condescendingly, sounding like a mother in a child's body. "no fighting."

"_He _started it!" We cry in unison, pointing fingers to the other accusingly.

"What happened? And why's your face all red like that?" Nevan glares at me angrily, touching his face like he can actually feel the redness of his face. I hold back a snort. Idiot.

"HE threw a broomstick at me, and it hit my face, and it _hurt. _Who knows the damage to it will bring to my lovely face?"

Lily nods. "I agree that you're face is quite lovely. Teddy?"

"I didn't _mean _to hit his face. He's just a lousy catcher."

Lily nods again, frowning slightly. "I have come to a verdict." She says pompously. "Teddy, apologize to Nevan."

I gape at her. This is so unjust! He's just a whiny little git! And it didn't even hurt that bad, I'll bet! "This is so unfair!" I voice aloud. "You just voted it in his favor, 'cause you think he's fit!"

Lily shrugs. "I don't deny, nor agree to this sentiment. It's either this, or he gets to throw a broomstick at _your _face. " Remind me why I agree to let a nine year old judge?

"I'd rather be hit in the face."

"I would like to hit him in the face." Nev pipes up helpfully from his corner in the closet. Bloody git.

"Teddy…" I hate it when Lily uses her warning voice on me. She's bloody half my age for Merlin's sake!

I pout, giving her my best puppy eyes. Her frown deepens. Lily Potter is the only person my puppy eyes don't work on, I promise you. Most people don't even know what hit them.

"Fine! Nevan I apologize for hitting your face with a broomstick, even if it wasn't my fault that you can't catch for your life."

Nevan took this as permission to let out a warrior cry and tackle me to the ground.

"OI!" I yelp as I avoid another one of his punches. He might make an awful chaser (do to the fact that he's inept at catching ANYTHING), but there's a reason that boy was made a beater. He might look scrawny (although I'm the only one who says so), but he can pack a mean punch. The kind that renders you unable to move and slip into unconsciousness. Please, please, oh, sweet Merlin, please get him off of me!

"What the- TEDDY LUPIN, NEVAN LIND WHAT THE HELL DO YOU LOT THINK YOU ARE DOING?" I'd kiss her in gratitude if I wasn't about to wet myself from fright. Well, that, and the fact she's like thirty.

I'm serious, though! Her eyes are smoldering, and her ginger locks are flying behind her and it looks as if the fumes from her rage has literally set fire to her head. She looks absolutely murderous. Why was everyone so freaked out about old Voldy when the real frightening beasts were right under their noses? More importantly, why are all women out to get me?

I can spot Nevan staring up in horror at Ginny, the true epitome of terrifying. He didn't get to grow up around her, so he's less immune to her intimidating ways than me. Whatever scarce immunity you can grow to something like her anyway.

"He started it!" I exclaim loudly, as soon as I can manage to find my ability to speak and control brain function.

Lily nods furiously, even though a minute ago she was on his side. Apparently, she, too, is all for pushing the blame on innocent bystanders. Even though it _was_ his fault. Kind of.

Ginny's glare softens by a fraction of a millimeter as it falls on Nevan, who is in the same state of shock he was in when the Ministry car pulled up in the driveway. Even stunned, he has the ability to use his looks and charm to wriggle a way out of situations.

However, as soon as it lands on him, it finds its way over to me. "Teddy, Lily, how dare you try to push off the blame on Nevan?" She scolds. Damn. Caught. "Teddy! You are of age now! Isn't it time you grow up? And you!" She hisses at Lily. She visibly flinches. I think the only person who can do that to her is her mother. Harry has tried, but he can't seem to stand to be mad at his only daughter. "I expected more of you! I thought we could finally have some peace and quiet, but you seem to be completely stuck on following after your brothers!" She storms out, muttering something along the lines of 'wait until your father hears about this…', which, of course, is a completely empty threat, as Harry's most likely to laugh his head off when he hears that she found us brawling in the broom closet.

Lily and I exchange wary glances as she leaves, only for her to pop her head back in and say in a creepily unusual chipper voice: "Oh, and Nevan, darling? Lunch is ready on the patio if you're hungry."

Victoire and Ginny should go have brunch sometime. Really. They'd have so much to talk about. Like how much they love telling me off and what bipolar medications they need to be on.


End file.
